In This Grief
by bjames238
Summary: This is my interpretation of the end scene of Arrow 4x01 with Oliver and Barry - of who I think died and what I think may have happened. It is not anyone we've met on the show, but it is someone very close to Oliver and Felicity's hearts.
1. Chapter 1

They hadn't even known until it was too late – until it was over.

He'd wanted to delay, to wait, to not have to do this alone, but the funeral home spouted off things about policies and embalming techniques and schedules and other things he'd just tuned out. At the insistence of those closest to him, he allowed it to go on – let them plan everything while he sat in a chair next to a hospital bed.

The day of the funeral, he hadn't wanted to go. He wanted to stay in that chair, right next to that bed like he had since he himself had been discharged from the hospital. In the end, the only reason he agreed was when the doctors told him of the small surgery planned that day and that he wouldn't be allowed in the operating room.

There were a few key people missing from the funeral – all understood, but painful nonetheless.

Honestly, he didn't even hear anything that was said during the service or the burial – his mind was back in that hospital room.

The first time he really registered anything was when he looked up and realized he stood at the fresh gravesite alone. Barry walked up shortly after – in one piece, he noticed.

"Sorry I missed the funeral." Barry apologized.

Oliver didn't turn around. "Zoom?" Oliver asked of the villain that had been plaguing Central City over the last six months.

"Yeah." Barry let out a breath.

"There was a time I would have thought this was my fault. That I brought this darkness upon us. Now I know it's not my fault. It's my responsibility." He said, his mind once again on that hospital room.

"Responsibility? To do what?" Barry sounded worried – and honestly he should be.

"To end it." Oliver spoke. The darkness, the pain, the suffering – it had to end. "I'm going to kill him." Neither one of them needed to say who – both of them knew of the darkness he spoke of.

"Is there anything I can do?" Barry asked.

"I want to be left alone." Oliver simply said – alone before he went back to the hospital.

"Okay." Barry nodded, before speeding off.

Oliver resumed his focus on the grave – on the words carved, on the name, on the numbers that represented the short life that ended not even a week earlier. He knelt down, careful not to step on the fresh dirt. He laid his hand on the stone and a single tear fell down his face. He looked down and closed his eyes, once again thinking of that hospital room.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his temples, a throbbing beginning to set in. The pain, the grief – it was just too much.

It wasn't fair.

Of all the physical pain and the losses he'd suffered all his life, the last week was testing him the most. The agony was bone deep – soul crushing and energy draining to the point where he didn't know how exist anymore.

The only thing that kept him going was that this needed to stop. This darkness – the one they call Damien Darhk. He was beyond evil, beyond villainous. He had no purpose in his cause other than to inflict torment on others – him and his H.I.V.E. would pay for that.

He'd survived losing his father, Tommy, his mother, and all the others. He would have probably survived losing Thea as well, eventually anyway, but this –

This was unimaginable.

There remained the fact, however, that he wouldn't be alone in this grief and that was most painful of all.

A ringing in his suit pocket nearly took his balance and struggled to his knees. Cringing on the leg that was still healing, he pulled the cell out and immediately answered it.

"Ollie!" His sister answered the phone.

Rolling his eyes, he was about to tell her that he wanted to be left alone. "Thea, please—"

"Ollie, you have to come quick. The doctors, they say she's waking up soon." The younger Queen blurted out.

Oliver tensed. "She's awake? Does she know?"

"No, not yet – but they say she's showing signs of up waking up in the next hour or two. Ollie, you have to be here when Felicity wakes up. You have to be the one that tells her."

She didn't need to remind him of that.

"I a-am- I will. I'm on my way." Oliver grunted, standing up and ending the call.

He glanced back at the stone again, at the single year on that stone: 2015. With one last quick touch to the stone, he was off toward his bike – to Felicity.

End.

A.N. So . . . what did you all think? I just came up with this on a whim, but I might have ideas to continue this if there's an interest.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

Wow, I was not expecting such a reaction to this - thanks everyone! :) I had a few ideas for another chapter so I just finished it. This one'll clear up what's going on in the first chapter and show us a little what happened to get them into this mess. I probably won't write up anymore but I just wanted to share this chapter. Happy Arrow day everyone!

Chapter Two:

Two hours turned into just under a half hour.

When Oliver returned to the hospital and made it up to Felicity's private recovery room, she was literally just waking up. No nurses or doctors or any of their friends in sight – but that was for the better.

He entered the room and closed (and locked) it behind him. This conversation was better off just between the two of them – it was their grief, after all.

He slid in the chair beside her and grabbed hold of her warm hand just as she was starting to stir. The sun from the window framed her blonde hair ethereally, giving her skin a slight glow despite the paleness he knew was there. A sling restrained her left arm. Though the blankets covered over just above her stomach, he knew there was a large bandage over her side as well as her stomach. The tube that had been in her throat earlier was gone – giving Oliver the comfort that she was breathing on her own.

Her mouth twitched first, her slight lips showing discomfort. Her nose soon followed, scrunching her face. One of few bandages above her forehead crinkled, a drop of blood staining the bandage.

"'liver?" Her voice cracked from being unused, her hand tensing under his – as if she knew it was him but didn't trust herself enough to be right.

"H-hey," Oliver smiled, despite the pain in his heart – what he was about to tell her would surely break hers as well. But she was alive – he hadn't lost her. She was right here in front of him – he could touch her, kiss her, feel her skin against his.

For a moment he didn't want to tell her – maybe she'd forgotten the brief moment during the attack when they'd found out. Maybe he'd never have to tell her at all, spare her from the torment he was feeling for their loss. Maybe –

No.

She opened her eyes then; the anguish in their eyes was identical. Her hand tightened around his and a tear fell down her face.

It was then that he realized she already knew.

She lifted his hand and lay it gently over her stomach – that was now empty – and he nearly lost it.

He wanted to be strong for her, to support her, to help her through this grief they now had to face in the face of everything else that was going on. He wanted to, he really did.

When that second tear fell down her face, though, he really did lose it. His head lowered to the bed and he burrowed his face in her side – gently, though, as not to hurt her. "Felicity, I'm so sorry, I . . ."

"No." She cut him off, her fingers sliding through the short strands of hair on his head. She coughed and Oliver immediately sat up, panicked. "W-Water."

Oliver reached over to the table at the end of the bed, grabbing the cup of ice chips. He helped her sit up, minding her sore muscles and the tubes that were everywhere. He tilted the cup, allowing a couple of chips to trickle into her mouth. As the ice melted, a few drops of water dripped down her chin.

Her arms too weak, a few tears of embarrassment and frustration fell down her face. Oliver quickly plucked a few tissues from the box next to her bed, cleaning up the dribble on her chin and wiping the tears from her eyes.

She cleared her throat, sniffling. "D-Did we get him?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard every word. He wanted so much to tell her that they did, that Damien Darhk was dead and paid for what he took from them. He couldn't lie to her, though – he never could. He shook his head, taking her hand again. He let out a frustrated breath, "He somehow got away. We've been over it a hundred times and we can't figure out how he escaped." The tears started fresh and his heart broke all over again. "We'll get him, though, we will. What he took . . ." He trailed off, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. A slight sob escaped Felicity's lips and it was gut-wrenching.

She lay back on the bed, her tears staining the pillow on either side of her head. "A-and everyone else? Is everyone okay?"

Oliver cleared his throat. "Y-Yeah. Thea's got a sprained wrist, Laurel a few cuts, Diggle and Lyla came out unscathed. They went to Lyla's mother's place in Seattle to go pick up Sara." Just mentioning the toddler that they'd both grown so close to was painful enough – he could tell it was the same for Felicity.

"And you?" Her eyes locked with his.

He swallowed – his awe with this woman never-ending. She'd been shot and stabbed, suffered a traumatic miscarriage, and had three major surgeries already – and she was worried about everyone else.

"Just a banged up leg, some bruises. Maybe a few minor grazes." Oliver wouldn't have told her, but she'd just find out anyway.

Her fingers stroked his arm as more tears fell. "Thank god I didn't lose you too . . ."

Oliver closed his eyes and breathed deep thinking of when he'd been at the cemetery thinking the same thing about her.

"What we lost, what Darhk took from us . . ." She coughed again, swallowing down a few more ice chips. Oliver sniffled, not caring that his face was just as stained with tears as hers was. "We didn't know what we were losing." She looked down. "I should have known, I should have listened to my own body. I . . ." She turned away. "I had a feeling, that morning."

"What do you mean?" Oliver's voice cracked.

"That morning, before I left to go to the office. Something felt different – I didn't know what it was at the time, but I should have." She covered her face, pushing him away when he tried to embrace her. "I should have protected myself, gotten myself away from the danger instead of jumping in front of that gun!" Anger crossed her lips even as tears fell from her eyes.

He didn't know what to say to her – he felt just as guilty. He was supposed to protect her, keep her safe, and shield her from the dangers of their night-time crusades. He'd failed her;

He'd failed their child.

"We have to get him, Oliver." She sniffled, turning back to face him.

"We will." Oliver nodded, reaching over to rub her shoulder – the one that wasn't in a sling. "We'll get him, for our son . . ."

"He's a monster." She continued, breathing deeply and still crying. "Everyone else we've faced – Merlyn, Slade, Ra's . . . they were fighting for a cause . . . and they still believed in something. But this Damien Darhk . . . Oliver, he's just evil." She sniffled. Oliver nodded – he agreed with her one hundred percent. "He knew that I was . . . he knew . . ." She hiccupped. "He's the one who told us and . . ."

"I know." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms gently around her. It was true – somehow Darhk had known about the baby even before they had, had even been the one to tell them before brutally torturing both of them. Oliver closed his eyes and he could see it all again – the two of them tied to chairs, Oliver being made to watch as Darhk's men beat the woman he loved like she was a punching bag. And then she doubled over on the chair, blood dripping down and soaking through the nude stockings under her tight, black skirt. The look of horror on her face as the realization of what happened hurt far worse than the torture itself . . .

"Oliver?"

He shook his head, willing the horrific images from his mind – trying to get Darhk's laugh out of his ears.

"He'll pay." Oliver swallowed, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her.

OFOFOFOFOFOFOFOFOF

Four weeks later the doctor finally deemed Felicity stable enough to leave the hospital, and, with the right conditions, visit her child's gravesite. Though disappointed that she'd missed the funeral while unconscious, Felicity understood that it had to be done.

For the moment, their enemies had seemingly disappeared – no sign of Darhk or his H.I.V.E. agents. They kept constant vigilance, however – always sticking together and never going anywhere alone. There was always someone with Felicity in the hospital as well – usually Oliver or Diggle.

On the day she was released from the hospital, it was just Oliver and Felicity at the cemetery. Diggle was some miles away, close enough to lend a hand but far enough to give the two grieving parents their space.

That day they said goodbye to the child they'd never gotten the chance to meet – vowing to support each other and rid the world of the man who took that from them. Instead of driving them apart, the loss brought them even closer together:

Not even a week later they were pronounced husband and wife.

Six weeks after that, Damien Darhk was finally gone – he was dead, and H.I.V.E. was disbanded.

A year later after months of trying, they found out they were pregnant. Nine months after that they brought their healthy little girl home – never forgetting about the little boy they'd lost.

End.


End file.
